Then she leans in. “Thank you.”
Suddenly, the ache in my dick is far more severe than any of my injuries. “Give me that mouth, Teach,” I order softly.
Her cheeks go pink, but she drifts closer, brushes her lips over mine.
“Pathetic,” I say when she pulls back.
“I think you’ve forgotten about the three dozen stitches in your head and the dislocated shoulder and the concussion.”
“It’s not dislocated any longer,” I say, trailing the fingers of my uninjured arm along her side.
“And the concussion?”
“What concussion?”
Her eyes widen slightly and I struggle to smother my smile. She clocks it anyway, her nose wrinkling and her eyes narrowing into a slight scowl. “You’re terrible.”
“I thought you said I was rather wonderful?”
A sharp sigh, but I can see she’s fighting a smile.
“Give me a taste of that.”
“Of wh-what?”
“Your smile. Your mouth. You.”
“Honey, you’re hurt.”
“Yeah.” I flick my eyes down toward where my dick is straining against the fabric of my jeans. “I am.”
Her gaze follows mine then jerks back up, cheeks going pink. “Terrible, I say. Terrible.”
“Kiss me, Teach.”
“I already did.”
“A real kiss.”
“Again,” she says exasperation in her words. “Concussion.” Her lips press lightly to my temple. “And stitches.” To the bruised skin near the injury. “And shoulder.” Her mouth brushes over the top of the brace.
“Fine.”
She blinks, leans back slightly. “Fine?”
“Yup. I’ll just kiss you.”
Her eyes go wide, mouth dropping open.
And I take full advantage, plunging my hand into her hair, bringing her lips to mine, stroking my tongue inside. Sleek and wet, like I know the rest of her will be, her moan tumbling from her mouth to mine, the taste of her pleasure the strongest aphrodisiac.
I want to take her.
Need to. Need it more than my next thought, my next breath.
My next heartbeat.
And that’s when pain lances through me.
